


One More Word

by Karategrl80



Series: Sastiel Creations Challenges [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Asexual Castiel (Supernatural), Asexual Relationship, Asexual Sam Winchester, Homophobic John Winchester, Homophobic Language, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Pre-Stanford, Weechesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-13 01:28:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17478662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karategrl80/pseuds/Karategrl80
Summary: Sastiel Creations Challenge FicSam has never seen eye to eye with his father about anything--and John always insists on having the last word on each and every disagreement--until Sam finally has had enough.





	One More Word

**Author's Note:**

> February 
> 
> Theme: one more  
> Prompt: word

To say that Samuel William Winchester didn’t get along with his father, even from a young age, would be a serious misrepresentation of the facts. In this manner, he was quite different than his brother, who easily fell in line. Although, this could have been a direct effect of Dean’s primary objective: protect Sam from his father’s wrath. Sam, of course, like any proper younger brother, was unconsciously determined to make Dean’s objective incredibly hard, if not outright impossible.

It started even before Sam started school. Dean trudged off the bus and made his way into the hotel, where Sammy was bundled up on one of the beds watching Sesame Street. Dinner that night was ramen noodles. Sam looked suspiciously at his dinner. 

“Dee,” he said, “we’re ‘sposed to eat our vegetables! There’s no vege-vege-tables in this!” he exclaimed, tripping over the multi-syllable word. 

Dean shrugs. “Complain to Dad. This is what I could get in the Quik-Mart with the money he left us. So this is what we’re eating. So eat.”

Sam huffed, and ate, as requested, but as Dean was soon to find out, his little brother had a long memory and was like a dog with a bone when he found a cause to fight for.

When John showed up a week later, Sam had put together a presentation based on his Sesame Street research. “Da, you hafta leave Dee more money,” he explained. “We has to eat the vege-ta-bles,” he carefully pronounced, “Big Bird says they are important so me an’ Dee grows up strong and healthy.”

John of course, had no time for Big Bird. “Sam, we don’t got the money for that crap. Just cause some critter on TV says so, it don’t make it true. I don’t want to hear another word out of you, you’re lucky you’ve got food to eat and a roof over your head.” John throws his overnight bag next to the TV, and pulls out a beer. Sam frowns.

“How come you’ve got money for your special grownup drink but you don’t have money for vegebles?” He takes his whole four year old self and plants himself directly between his father and the TV, pointing accusingly at the bottle in question, staring up at John from beneath wrinkly eyebrows. Sam was going for serious, but looked more like a pathetic pug. Even at four, he had already perfected the sad puppy dog face.

“Samuel William, don’t you start with me, I don’t have the patience for this crap tonight. Dean!” he yells, ignoring the fact that Dean is not 5 paces away.

“Yes, sir?” he asks, tentatively. 

“Take your brother out of my face before I do something we’ll all regret. I had a shitty week, I need to relax.” He looks sternly at Dean. “I don’t want to hear one more word about this, from either of you, you understand?”

“Yes sir,” Dean replies. To Sam, he whispers harshly, “Get your tush over here! What do you think you are doing?” Sam rolls his eyes and lets out the most affected of sighs. Shooting his brother the first of many bitch faces, he grumbles as he stalks over to where Dean is standing. “Come on, Sammy, let's go practice your letters, and writing your name, okay, and let Dad relax?”

“I can ALREADY write my name, Dean! I figured that out LAST week!” Sam exclaimed, indignantly.

“Great, then we’ll work on writing, ‘I will not bother Dad when he walks in the door’ a billion and one times.”  
By the end of the night, Sam swears if he writes one more word, his hand is going to fall off.  
___  
In the intervening years, there are many, many fights, and they all end the same way. “Not one more word about this Sam, this conversation is finished.” Throughout Sam’s childhood, a new school year meant a new school district. But for whatever reason, when Sam starts high school, the Winchester clan settles in Sioux Falls, North Dakota, and John and Dean get work at a local salvage, run by a grumpy man by the name of Bobby Singer. 

Sam and Cas met freshman year in their history class. They had both been placed in college prep classes. Sam of course, because of his spotty school record from moving from place to place, and Cas for habitual underachieving. Sam introduced himself, liking the sparkiling mischief in the other boy’s bright blue eyes. Having learned the boy’s name was Castiel, Sam insisted he must be taught about Castiel’s name and the rest of the hoard of brothers and sisters that lived in his house. When Sam discovered that neither Castiel nor any of his siblings had nicknames, he promptly dubbed him Cas, and they were inseparable. Bored in the back of their classes, they passed notes to each other complaining about the meat heads in the class who were more interested in wooing girls then actually learning ANYTHING. 

When John was away, Sam would invite Cas over for dinner, to get him out of his over-crowded-with-siblings house. One of these times, near the end of the year, Sam and Cas are discussing what classes they are going to take next year, and lamenting that they are probably going to be as dull and slow moving as this year’s classes were. Dean takes notice immediately.

“Sammy, why are your classes dull? You’ve always liked school,” he asks.

“It’s Sam. And they are boring cause we’re both stuck in college prep classes and the kids are ridiculous.”

Cas nods his head in agreement. “Today we spent history ducking from being hit by one of the 10 paper airplanes that were flying around the room. Possibly if they paid more attention in physical science, they’d be better at building paper airplanes that, like, actually fly straight, but all they do in science is flirt with the girls,” Cas says, rolling his eyes. “It’s impossible. The teachers can’t get one word in edgewise with all the ruckus in the classroom.”

Of course, this stirs all the protective older brother instincts in Dean, so, armed with a (forged) letter stating he is a temporary guardian of Sam, he marched into the school and complained about how Sam and Cas belong in honors classes and the school is doing them a great disservice by leaving them in college prep classes. Dean’s charisma was irresistible, and by the time he left the school, both Sam and Cas were registered for honors classes in their sophomore year. 

By the time senior year rolled around, it was simply accepted that Sam and Cas were a thing. No one was really sure what kind of a thing, as there was no hand holding or making out by their lockers, or late night escapades to the local make out point. But it was universally accepted and unquestioned that Sam and Cas were together. Neither showed any interest in anyone else, and they were always found in each other’s company--although they steered clear of the Winchester household when John was around. Dean, of course, covered for them: “Sam’s at the library studying with a classmate.” Which, honestly, probably was true. But there was also probably dinner and MAYBE Cas could convince Sam to get dessert after his salad.

Everything fell apart the night of prom. The boys decide to get ready at the salvage yard, so Bobby can see them off. In the years they’ve spent in Sioux Falls, he’s become an important figure to the Winchester boys, and Sam wants him to share in this big moment. Dean helps Sam and Cas get ready, each taking turns in Bobby’s tiny bathroom. They move outside to take pictures in front of Dean’s Impala--Dean will be serving as the chauffeur for the evening. They’d argued about it earlier in the week, Dean being rather stubborn about the whole thing. “I’m not listening to your arguments, Sammy,” he said, ignoring the muttered “its Sam” and continuing to speak, using his fingers to punctuate his points. “First, you are NOT driving the Impala. Baby is too precious. Second, you are not taking that beat up pickup you drive to PROM. Third, you will be the talk of the school, coming with your own chauffeur,” Sam rolls his eyes, like he cares about that? “Fourth, this way I can make sure you make it home safe, and Fifth…” Dean pauses. “I know I had a fifth but whatever, it doesn’t matter, I’m driving, and that’s the end of that.” And it was. Or so they thought.

Sam and Dean hadn’t seen John in two months. So of course, he showed up just as Sam and Cas were preparing to get in the Impala. Dean spotted him first, and muttered a curse under his breath. “Sam, Cas, get in the car NOW,” he ordered, planning on just driving them out of the yard before John had a chance to react. But no such luck, John was already close enough to see that Sam and Cas were clearly dressed up and on their way somewhere fancy.

“Where you boys off to?” John asks.

“The prom, Dad.” Sam replies, shuffling his feet in the dusty yard.

“You going to go pick up the young ladies? The Impala’ll make a great impression.” John leans on the passenger side of the Impala, now the only thing separating John from Cas and his sons. Sam quickly glances at Cas and then at Dean. Dean shrugs, as if to say ‘we’re screwed either way, might as well just get it out.’

Sam sighs. “No, Dad, Cas and I are going. Together.”

“No.” says John, abruptly.

“What do you mean, no, Dad? You don’t get to just show up here out of the blue ON THE DAY OF PROM and tell me I’m not going! That’s not how this works!” Sam bites back angrily.

“I mean no. It’s one word, it’s pretty simple to understand. You don’t even need to know English to understand it,” John fires back. “No son of mine is taking a BOY to prom. It’s just not happening, Sam.”

“You have no right. You’ve been gone for two months, Dad. We didn’t know where you were, we haven’t heard from you, not a call, a letter, a postcard, nothing! And now you come waltzing back in and try to take control of my life? You don’t get to do that anymore, I’m eighteen, you can’t just order me around and expect me to follow you like a nice obedient soldier!” Now Sam is shouting, and Dean is quite glad the salvage property is relatively large so they don’t have any witnesses to the Winchester Family Feud. Well, beyond Bobby, who now has stepped out of the house, to see what all the ruckus was. He’d already fussed over the boys and wished them a great night, and certainly wasn’t expecting to be disturbed before he’d even had a chance to sit down with his tumbler of whiskey.

“Now, come on, John, this ain’t as big a deal as you’re making it out to be,” Bobby starts, before John interrupts him.

“And YOU! I trusted you, Bobby, with my boys, how did you let this happen?”

The placid mask falls off Bobby’s face fast at John’s accusation. “I didn’t LET anything happen, John. It just is. You’d understand that if you were around for more than a week at a time! You’re lucky I never called CPS on you, you’d be rotting in jail for the disservice you’ve done your boys!” 

John seems to decide that’s an argument he can’t win, so he turns his fury back on Sam. “Get over here, you’re coming with me,” he demands.

“No, Dad, I’m not.” Sam is close to tears by now, and both Dean and Cas have crowded into him, silently lending their support. John makes a move to come around to the other side of the Impala, only to find Dean blocking his way.

“Move, Dean,” acting as if he is going to push past Dean and grab Sam.

Dean shakes his head. “No, Dad. Cause you have no right. Sam doesn’t have to do anything JUST because you’re his father. Sure, you had a hand in making him, but you haven’t been his DAD since Mom died. You put ME in charge of him, since I was four years old, and now I’m saying he’s going to the prom. You aren’t stealing this away from him, the way you stole it from me. I’m not going to let that happen, so back off!” 

John looks over Dean’s shoulder at Sam. “I’m done discussing this with you Sam, not one more word of this craziness. You want to do this, I’m out of here. I won’t be having no queer son, you hear?” Dean can’t hold back, and sucker punches John, who stumbles back, but then regains his balance. John glares at Dean, but says nothing to him. “Well, Sam, what’ll it be?”

Sam looks back at Cas, tears glistening in his eyes. A million words are said in a glance, and Cas brings his hand to Sam’s and squeezes it tightly. He’ll be here, no matter what.

“One more word, huh, Dad? That’s always your line, you don’t want to hear one more word. Well, you may not WANT to hear it, but you are going to hear it, and then you are going to leave. And you can stop worrying about coming back and pretending to be a father. Because I choose, and I will always choose…” 

He squeezes Cas’ hand. 

“Castiel.”


End file.
